Book 7, chapters Milk, 26, 27 (Patreon)

Hey everyone. Just got back from a long road trip where I was being chased by a winter storm, which made it difficult to get the chapters down. Sorry about that.

Just a quick note about the previous chapters. I reworked it a bit to make it more clear what had happened with the trenches... Two of the Team Retribution NPC scouts took the middle of the three trenches and filled it with water. The second scout, who was an NPC bartender, used a scroll to turn the water to acid. Then the first one cast an illusion over the pool of acid. Multiple enemy soldiers jumped in before they realized what was happening. When Victory met up with Carl at the Prism castle, she was in shock at how effective of a trap it was. She didn't know about that part, since it was all from team Retribution, and she let her normally-stoic facade crack for just a moment. Anyway, on to the show...

Milk

Milk awakened to the sound of screaming. The floor shook, followed by a distant explosion. A moment later, a siren went off, alerting all guards.

What is this? she wondered, pulling herself out of her dusty nest of straw, pushing the heating element out of the way. Her entire body protested. The sleep linen, ink now faded, fell off her body and slowly fell to the floor. Dust filled her room. How long had she been asleep this time? She stretched, cracking her knuckles. Her claws extended and retracted. The joints in her wings felt sore and atrophied. Unused. She slowly turned her neck, and the bones creaked. A rumbling filled her body.

Warning. Your health levels are low due to starvation. You are not allowed to self-terminate, and if you expire due to starvation, you will be saved and time will be added to your indentureship contract.

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered. She reached for the table where she kept the pile of tasteless sustenance  pellets and popped one into her mouth. All the blinking warnings went away.

More screaming filled the hallway outside. An ominous clicking noise followed. The scent of demon-stink flowed under the doorway of her guildhall. A sense of, what? Danger? Yes, danger. A sense of danger prickled the back of her mind. How long had it been since she felt that?

The floor shook again. Outside, a pair of mantaur guards rushed down the hall, shouting. There was a crack and then a crunch. Blood appeared on the ground, seeping into her room from under the hidden door, kissing the edge of her carpet.

Strange, Milk thought. She pulled up her interface. This was only the fifth floor, wasn’t it? It was rare that demons could get into Club Vanquisher. It was unheard of that it would happen this early. Even when the idiot showrunners built some quest involving demons, and said demons would inevitably overpower the clerics or whomever else was involved, trash the temple, and break free into the club, it only happened on the deeper floors, like the 10th or 11th.

She hadn’t really been paying attention to the season, not bothering to turn on the recap episodes. Long ago, she’d written a scroll that worked to mute the announcements, and nobody had ever noticed. The fact she still had food and dungeon newsletters delivered was the only sign that they hadn’t completely forgotten about her.

Speaking of the newsletters, a pile of them remained stacked up by the door. Nobody ever entered the calligraphy guild, or the cartography guild next door, to which she was also the guildmaster, especially since the doors to both guilds were hidden. She never bothered to hide the papers in the back where crawlers wouldn’t see them. She hadn’t had a one-on-one with a floor supervisor in over 50 seasons. What was the point?

“Pony, stop!” came a female voice, followed by a strange, high-pitched scream.

“They can’t do this, mother. I won’t stand for it!” came the screech. “It wasn’t your fault! Bianca, melt the guards!”

Another mantaur shouted, followed by a sizzling noise.

“Prepotente Lorenzo De La Rosa! Stop that this instant!” came the woman’s voice again, stern. “Stop. More guards are coming. They will kill us. We must flee.”

“I will kill them all! It’s not fair, mother. It’s simply not fair!”

Milk didn’t know who or what was going on, but a quick check of her interface told her that the three creatures outside of her room were not escaped demons. It was two crawlers and a pet, likely a hellspawn familiar. A big one. They had raised the ire of the guards.

She remembered the procedures. Stay put. Hide. You are not a guard. You are not to interfere with conflicts. As a non-combatant NPC, you are not allowed to strike a crawler or guest except in self-defense. Breaking the rules can result in severe punishment, including but not limited to additional time added to your indentureship, reassignment to a combat role, or the worst fate... undead reassignment.

She stepped away from the door as the mother and son continued to argue. They had to figure out something soon. As soon as the temple guards showed up from the lower parts of the club, they would be obliterated.

And then, to Milk’s utter astonishment, for the first time in a very, very long time, the hidden door to the calligraphy guild opened.

Milk examined the pair of crawlers plus their giant pet standing there, and she instantly knew what the problem was. The older, female crawler was originally a human, but her race was Vampire, which wasn’t a race someone could voluntarily choose. That meant it was likely a recent thing, and upon noticing this, they had likely just told her that her access to Club Vanquisher was being revoked. Her child, who’d apparently taken a caprid race, was upset about this.

All of that flashed through Milk’s mind in moments as the trio burst into the hidden guild. The third companion, a caprid-based, hellspawn familiar surged into the room. The carpet below the beast’s hooves started to smolder. The dusty pile of dungeon newsletters burst into flames. The creature, Bianca, clicked and prepared to cast a spell against Milk.

“Wait,” she cried as she scribbled a power word onto her skin. She held up her wrist as the wave of heat washed over her. She cried out as the power word burned into her mottled skin, but she was otherwise unharmed.

“Bianca, stop!” the vampire called as she slammed the door behind her.

“You. Guildmaster,” the goat snapped, as if his pet hadn’t just tried to incinerate her. “Bring me the manager of this establishment immediately. I would like to lodge a formal complaint.”

“Can you please stow your pet before it burns this whole place down?” Milk asked, still gasping in pain. “You’re safe in here, but only for a short amount of time. The mantaurs will bang on the doors, but they won’t come in until the taurin guards get here.”

Warning: You are giving unauthorized information to the crawlers. Additional warnings may come with penalties.

“Oh my goodness, look at your arm,” the vampire, whose name was Miriam, said, rushing up to Milk. “I do apologize. Pony, give me a salve. Bianca, apologize to the nice...” The vampire cocked her head. “I’m sorry, dear. What kind of creature are you? A Xenopus?”

“A xenopus is the genus name of a type of clawed frog,” the caprid said as he handed the woman a magical salve. “Common throughout the world. Disgusting creatures. The earth versions do not have wings.”

“Don’t you move,” Miriam said. She grasped Milk’s arm and started rubbing the burn with the lotion. Milk just looked at the woman, open-mouthed. In all of her cycles in the dungeon, she’d never known of a crawler giving up supplies to heal an NPC. She felt her skin tingle. “Healing potions are terrible at curing Bianca’s burns, and this salve works much better. I am quite glad you cast that spell or whatever you did to protect yourself. Now, you must forgive Prepotente. He has a whole encyclopedia’s worth of new knowledge in that fuzzy head of his, but he still hasn’t learned how to politely wield it.”

Milk’s stash of scroll linen burst into flames. “Please. My supplies are hard to get, and your pet is destroying them.”

“Serves you right,” Prepotente said.

“Bianca, Honey. Come here,” the vampire said as she released Milk’s arm. She pulled a pet carrier, and the large beast snorted before being zapped away.

Milk rushed to put out the various fires in her guild. They were all small fires, thankfully. “Yes, I am a xenopus, but before I came into the dungeon, I was a vesper.” She sighed. Her carpet was ruined. It would be three seasons before they’d fix it. And most of her linen scrolls were destroyed, too. The entire guild was going to stink like demon for a century.

“Wait. You’re a former crawler?” the caprid asked. “How interesting. This changes everything!”

Milk sifted through the linen pile, picking out scraps that were still good. She tried to ignore what the goat said. While it wasn’t meant that way, the caprid’s words were like an accusation.

You were a crawler. You fought. You were part of something, once. And now, look at you. All you do is sleep. You’ve missed entire seasons more times than you can count. You’re a coward, that’s what you are. When was the last time you even tried to help someone? Your family would be ashamed.

Milk let out a breath. “Listen, crawlers. You killed a few guards, unleashed a demon pet, and one of you is a vampire. They’re not going to let you out of here alive.”

The door to the guild banged.

“Mother, what are we going to do?” Prepotente asked.

Milk gave a nervous glance at the ceiling. Fuck it, she thought.

“I sure hope you don’t threaten me,” she said to the pair. “If you threaten me, I might be forced to give you information.”

Miriam gave Milk a sad smile, revealing sharp teeth. She then stepped forward and put her hand on Milk’s shoulder. Thank you, the gesture said. She then stepped back and pulled a knife from her inventory. “What sort of information?”

Milk grinned. “Information on the many secret entrances and exits from Club Vanquisher, including the one in the back of this very room. I have a map, and I hope you don’t steal it from me.”

Class: Cartographer

Race: Xenopus

Birth Race: Vesper

Top Level: 73

Dungeon Exit: took a deal on the tenth floor. Runs both the Cartography guild and Calligrapher’s guild. Will not be freed until her services are used at least 333 times in the dungeon. Times used so far: 6.

Author of the sixth edition of the Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook.

Current status: Indentured within the dungeon.

Chapter 26

Entering the Throne Room for the Prism.

You may capture this room and defeat the Prism by occupying it for six hours.

Warning: The timer has not started as this room is occupied by multiple factions.

The three guards were dealt with. D’Nadia had sent them out of the room the moment the hunter-seekers had approached. Two of the guards were off-worlders and the third was an enormous rhinoceros. A sai NPC she’d somehow managed to hire. Only one of the guards had been Saccathian, and that one  had hidden himself behind the other off-worlder—a gnoll—as the explosive spider automatons approached. Both of the off-worlders were splattered over the wall before we got there.

The samurai rhino had cast a powerful shield spell, but the concussions from the explosions had knocked him out. He would be down for ten minutes and counting. My first instinct was to kill him, but I decided to hold off. I tried to handcuff him, but his wrists were too thick. I used duct tape instead, securing his wrists and ankles. It wouldn’t hold him for long, but hopefully we’d be finished with this before he woke up.

“Guard him,” I said to Rend. “Don’t eat him, but if he starts to wake up, come to me.”

Rend giggled and then started rolling circles around the rhino.

We left them there outside the throne room. At the entranceway, I paused. There were no traps in the throne room. They weren’t allowed. But I didn’t want to underestimate the Empress, either.

Carl: What did they say her big attacks were?

Donut: SHE HAS A BUNCH OF ICE AND WATER SPELLS. SHE HAS A TELEPORT TO SAFETY RING, WHICH IS USELESS NOW. A TECH SHIELD. PROBABLY A GUN. OH, OH, SHE HAS A CROWN THAT HAS SOME WATER SPELLS, TOO. ROSETTA SAYS SHE’S POORER THAN THE BLOOD SULTANATE.

I suspected the naga weren’t nearly as poor as they let on, not anymore, but right now wasn’t the time.

Carl: Okay. Let’s not draw this out longer than we need to. Remember what happened with Katia and Eva. Turn on your shield. Rolling the smoke in now.

I activated my own tech shield. I pulled a smoke curtain from my inventory and tossed it into the room. Then I pulled a non-magical banger sphere and clutched it in my hand.

Donut and I stepped into the room.

A crossbow bolt slammed right into my shoulder and pinged off my shield. The bolt sizzled strangely as it hit the ground.

“Oh, yes,” Donut said. “Not a gun. A crossbow. I remember now.”

D’Nadia was staring directly at us, despite the smoke. She was trying to fire a second bolt, but I was faster. I aimed, and I hurled the banger sphere across the room. She cried out as the shield sparked, causing her to stumble back against the wall. She dropped her magical crossbow to the floor. I pulled a second metal sphere into my hand and threw it at her midriff. The shield sparked again as she let out an oof. She slid to the floor and just sat there, her ridiculously ornate dress spread out around her like an anemone.

She had a health bar, showing a very slight injury. That wasn’t from me, as the shields were specifically designed to keep you from losing health. I wasn’t sure how she was doing it, but she was keeping herself from healing completely.

Damnit, I thought. She’s doing that on purpose.

Donut cast Clockwork Triplicate on Mongo, who spread out in the room.

The empress remained on the floor, looking up at us with an inscrutable expression. I knew she probably had a top-of-the-line shield. Probably multiple shields. She could still be dangerous. I had both a drop shield and my Protective Shell ready to go.

We needed to be smart about this, but I had to make an example of her, too.

The smoke started to clear. The room was strangely empty. The Empress’s elaborate dress seemed out of place here. Under the dress, appendages undulated, and I was sure she was probably holding a weapon or two. Saccathians had two, human-like arms, which I could see, but they had several other appendages as well. No two were exactly the same. I tossed a third sphere at her. The shield sparked again, and she flinched, closing her eyes.

“No throne?” Donut asked, incredulous as she looked about the room. She scoffed. “How can you have a throne room without a throne? I mean, really. At least you’re dressed properly for an empress.”

From the other corner of the room, the naga adjutant spoke. “Hello, Victory,” he said.

“Nihit,” Victory said from behind me, inclining her head.

I blinked in surprise, turning my attention to the Prism adjutant. I knew this guy.

“Nihit?” I asked the naga. “Is that you? How’s your neck?” I hurled another sphere against D’Nadia. Again, it sparked. Again, she flinched and cried out. Mongo and the two clockworks growled and moved in closer.

Donut, from my shoulder, cocked her head. “Carl, is this the guy you throat stabbed with a pen? The reporter guy who thinks we’re cheating? The same one who tried to scoop Odette with the story about Miss Beatrice still being alive?”

“The one and only,” I said.

“I hear you have anger issues,” Donut said. “Oh, Empress. I wouldn’t do that.”

A hole appeared in D’nadia’s gown as she fired a pulse directly at Donut from underneath her clothing. The pulse went wide, but it still caught the corner of Donut’s shield, sending a spark up.

Mongo screeched in outrage, but Donut held him back with a command.

I threw yet another sphere, and then another, and another. A moment later, a small gun clattered to the ground.

“Please, Carl,” D’Nadia said, talking for the first time. “Please. Let’s talk about this.”

“Oh, we’re going to talk,” Donut said.

Carl: The shield module is built into the fabric of her left shoulder. It looks like she might have a second one on her right shoulder, which means she probably has a third somewhere else, too. We’ll have to get it all off of her. Don’t let them hurt her too much.

“But first,” Donut added, “let’s peel that shield off of you.” She made a noise with her mouth, and the two clockwork Mongos pounced, biting and clawing at the woman as she screamed and flailed and sparked.

It took almost a full minute for the first splatter of blue blood to appear, which suggested to me she did, indeed, have three separate shields. Those dinos caused a lot of damage. But now, they were through her defenses.

“Get the dress!” I called, just in case she had more shields. One of the clockworks swiped, and the entire top of her gown ripped off, revealing a green-tinged body covered with tentacles. They popped out like biscuit dough being released, flapping in all directions. The Empress sobbed as she waved her tentacles about. The clockwork Mongos bit and tore at her arms, leaking blue blood everywhere.

A knife dropped to the ground. She reached for it, but a clockwork Mongo snapped her tentacle right off, and the knife skittered across the room. This was what she was using to keep herself injured.

Donut called the Mongos back.

I didn’t hesitate. I cast a Heal scroll on her.

The moment she was fully healed, I did it. She violently bit down on her own hand, but it was too late.

You have successfully marked Warlord Empress D’Nadia of the Prism. Her highest stat is Intelligence.

This mark will form in thirty seconds.

“Okay,” I said. “She’s tagged. Keep her health down, and keep her occupied.”

“You heard him, boys,” Donut said.

The clockwork Mongos went back to work, tearing at her. The real Mongo held back, hopping from one foot to the next, his arm feathers rustling with anticipation.

Carl: Don’t let them kill her. Not yet.

“Help,” Empress D’Nadia gurgled. “Somebody help me.”

Next to us, the two adjutants now stood side by side, silently watching, saying nothing.

“This is what happens, in the end,” I called out to the ceiling. “This is what happens to all tyrants, big and small.”

“I’m not...” D’nadia cried. “I’m not...”

Louis: One of those tank things pulled up outside and a bunch of mercenaries are piling out of it. Ten of them, I think. All off-worlders. I don’t think they see us. Want me to engage?

Carl: Can you tell if they’re Prism or not?

Louis: Bonnie says most are, but there are at least two who aren’t.

I hesitated.

Carl: Stand down.

“Back,” Donut finally called to the clockworks, once D’Nadia’s formidable health was in the red. Donut leapt from my shoulder and started to stalk across the throne room, low to the ground. The two clockwork Mongos backed away, revealing a bloodied and half-naked Saccathian. She gurgled as she tried to breathe.

Colonel Boomer: If you’re going to do something, now would be the time. You didn’t get all their artillery, and they’re starting to zero in on us.

“I’m your friend, Carl.” D’Nadia gasped. She turned to Donut, who remained in her pouncing stance. “Donut, I was your sponsor. I got you your glasses. Don’t you like your glasses?”

“Do you remember Tsarina Signet?” I asked.

“What... who?” D’Nadia asked.

“The naked, tattoo lady,” Donut said from the floor, her voice a deep growl I’d never heard before.

“Oh, yes. Of course. We sat with her...” She gasped. “We sat with her during the Butcher’s Masquerade.”

I felt my fists clench. My gauntlet formed. “You told her that she wasn’t real. That her family wasn’t real.”

“What? Why are you telling me this?” Her remaining tentacles clutched against the wall behind her, like she was trying to crawl up the wooden slats. They couldn’t find purchase because of all the blood.

“I’m sorry none of the golems are here right now. That’s just how it works out sometimes. But that’s okay. I think, in the end, she considered me as part of her family as well.”

“Carl, please. You’re not making sense.”

I had a memory, of the first time I met D’Nadia. It was on Ripper Wonton’s show. She’d sat next to me and she’d tried to hold my hand. She’d cried when Manassa was assassinated. For a moment, just a short moment, I thought perhaps she was one of the good ones.

And then I’d learned that she was attempting to purchase a Faction Wars spot for her government. That she’d been trying for a long time. That she wanted to come into the dungeon and freely kill people just like me. My friends.

My family.

The anger that washed over me was so brilliantly white, all three of my eyes burned. I’d never felt anything like this. Not with Maggie My. Not with Quan Ch.

I hated her.

At that moment, I hated her more than anyone and anything in the universe. I knew I hated people like the Maestro and his brother. And the hunters. And all the other warlords. But it was nothing compared to this. They, at least, didn’t conceal who they were. They didn’t hide. They didn’t pretend.

It’s so loud, Carl. It’s so loud.

“Quiet,” I said. I felt myself take a step forward. “Just be quiet.”

Carl: Donut, I changed my mind. I want to do it. Step aside.

Donut: No, Carl. Please, no. I need you to step back. I need you to calm down right now. I got this. It’s okay.

“I did it for my people,” D’Nadia whispered.

“For your people?” I asked, incredulous. “No, D’Nadia. You did it for you. And now your people are going to suffer because of it.”

Donut: Carl, please.

Louis: They’re going inside.

The 30 seconds have passed. Your mark has fully formed.

And there it was.

The edge.

I saw it, clear as can be. Right there. I stood upon it, one foot stretched out over open air.

You can do that, sometimes. You can find clarity when you need it most.

I took a step back.

Carl: Okay, Donut. It’s time.

Donut seemed to swallow. She moved herself to a sitting position, and then she started to lick her paw, suddenly acting casual.

“Empress, Darling,” Donut said. “Mongo would like to express his utmost disappointment at how you judged him during the pet show.”

Chapter 27

The five points to Intelligence flashed into my interface, followed by several notifications. Before I could check any of them, a big notification blocked out them all:

New Achievement! Gavrilo Princip!

When Commander Stockade of the Lemig Sortion died a few hours back, it certainly caused a ripple or two out in the galaxy. But in the end, the death of half the Lemig council isn’t that big of a deal. Their governmental system is idiotic, yes, but all the parts are interchangeable. This time tomorrow, and the dead will have already been replaced and the Lemig system will be back to their regular, momentum-killing gridlock.

Empress D’Nadia is a whole different cookie, my friends. You just killed—and, by the way, bankrupted—the last living heir of a small but powerful trading dynasty. The Syndicate probate courts are already girding themselves for the endless court battles that are about to ensue. Even if this is the only system leader you manage to slaughter during the next few weeks, you have made an impact, my boy. A big one.

Still... her death will only result in court-based battles outside the dungeon. You want real chaos? Try killing that Dream guy. Or the Viceroy. Or that Jello-looking thing. He may not look like much, but when you start killing off investment bankers...

Anyway, I don’t want to be a backseat warlord. Just try to keep it together long enough to keep me entertained, and you’ll keep getting the good stuff.

Reward: You’ve just received a Platinum 1914 box!

“Carl, did you just get that achievement?” Donut asked. “What the heck is a Gavrilo?”

Before I could answer her, the system spoke again.

System Message: Warlord D’Nadia of the Prism has fallen. Credit for the kill has been given to pet Mongo of the Princess Posse.

System Message: The Prism has been defeated.

System Message: All assets of the Prism have been awarded to the Princess Posse.

Warlord Message: You own non-adjoining property. As a result, you may not dismantle this headquarters. This throne room is vulnerable to attack! If it is taken, you will lose the land associated with the former Prism team.

At the same moment, multiple mercenaries rushed into the room. All were off-worlders. There were ten of them. Eight now had Princess Posse banners over their heads. One had a banner for the Madness and the third had a banner for the Dream. All ten were gnolls, and based on their uniforms, I suspected they all worked together before they’d come to the dungeon. I wasn’t certain how they’d all been divvied up to the various factions when they came here, but it seemed they’d remained a unit despite being split to three different factions. They were outfitted in heavy armor and pulse rifles.

“Stop!” Donut called, and all eight of the new Princess Posse mercenaries stopped dead. A new notification appeared over them. Under Orders.

The other two, who were at the back of the pack, kept their forward momentum, raising their weapons.

The lead gnoll, one of the newly-converted mercenaries, was named Corporal Pillbox. He held up an arm and shouted for the other two to lower their weapons.

“Do it, you idiots, if you want to live,” he growled.  The two other mercenaries looked at each other.

“Fuck,” one of them said, and he lowered his gun. The other did the same.

I examined the banners of the eight mercenaries. It was a different color than the regular, pink, Princess Posse banner. It was blinking red. It signified them as new recruits from another army, and it would remain red for about a week. While they were under this status, we had the same controls over them as someone under the Conscription spell. Basically, they wouldn’t be able to attack officers directly. We could force them to follow orders. We would get a notification if they ran away.

If we decided to kill them during this time, we could, easily. We could order them to stand still while we cut their throats. That’s what happened, often, during Faction Wars with the NPCs.

And captured crawlers, too.

My finger itched, and the Ring of Divine suffering hung heavily upon it.

Please, no, Donut had said. Shaking, I pulled the ring off my finger. I realized everyone in the room was looking at me and watched me do it.

Colonel Boomer: That was cutting it close. Luckily, the NPC mercenaries were happy to accept their new colors. Orders remain the same?

General Carl: Yes. Good job. Take all the new recruits and retreat back to our lines. Separate out any off-worlders if there are any. Loot everything you can.

Colonel Boomer: We can probably push to the Blood Sultanate castle while you have our back covered.

General Carl: I know. You have your orders.

Colonel Boomer: Understood.

“Look, mate,” Corporal Pillbox said. His eyes remained on my hand. He likely knew that the ring’s rules said that here on the 9th floor, I could mark each and every one of them at the same time. “You captured the Prism fair and clean. We’re mercenaries, and we didn’t want to be here in the first place. We were originally in the system guarding some of the communication gear on this planet’s moon, and that’s it. We didn’t want to be here on planet fighting you guys. We don’t give no shits about who is in charge of what. There’s no reason to kill us. We’ll be happy to fight on your side, but,” he held up a claw, and he pointed to the two mercenaries in the back from the other teams. His finger was shaking, and his voice cracked. “Lockjaw and Mange are our mates. If you kill them, we won’t be too enthusiastic about helping you. It’s not their fault they got put on other teams. Mange is my cousin, and my ma would never forgive me.”

Donut, who’d been standing over D’Nadia’s body, was in the process of looting the dead Empress. A moment later, she took her corpse as well. She looked up, glaring at the dog mercenaries.

Donut: CARL, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? WE CAN’T TRUST THEM. WE CAN ONLY TRUST THE NPCS.

I grunted. All the anger I’d just been feeling was gone, drained out of me like all my rage had undergone some sort of rapid decompression. I felt painfully empty in my chest, as if part of me was gone now, too. I’d been holding onto that anger for so long, I wasn’t sure how I felt now that she was dead. A strange sense of mourning hit me, all at once, and it was confusing and strange and completely unexpected.

And what was worse, the day wasn’t even close to being over yet.

I returned my attention to the group of ten gnolls, all friends, I realized, as they waited to hear their fate.

“Don’t worry,” I said to the corporal after a moment. “We’ll figure something out. None of you have to die today. At least not by our hands. But I’m afraid you will have to be separated. We can’t have them in our camp, and you know it. For now, please disarm your two friends. If they comply, you have my word we won’t harm them. You are officially ordered to kill your friends if they try to harm any of us.”

Corporal Pillbox looked as if he was going to object, but he nodded after a moment. It was a good compromise, and he knew it.

“Now, we can’t hold this position, so we’re gonna have to get moving fast. For right now, I want you guys to spread out and loot everything you can in this castle.” I looked at Mange, who was the mercenary for the Dream. “You. Stay behind, and we’ll talk. Lockjaw, you go with your friends, but don’t loot anything.”

A low, defeated-sounding hiss came from my left, startling me. I was surprised to see the two adjutants still standing there. “Since they won’t let me leave, I guess I’ll be joining Panford on the 18th floor,” Nihit said. He gave me a final glare, and without a further word, the naga teleported away.

“Now is probably a terrible time to tell you this, but Zev wanted me to tell you that you’ll all be going on a live roundtable tomorrow. All the remaining warlords. That includes Juice Box and Ferdinand, which is a first. Don’t worry. All hostilities will freeze while you’re away.” She sighed. “Also, you’re probably about to get a bunch of messages from your southern front. I’m headed there now to observe.” Victory nodded once before she, too, disappeared.

Florin: Bad news from the southern front, mate. I don’t think we can sustain this. I’m preparing to retreat to our fallback position. We are holding for now, but without backup, we might break in a matter of hours. Could really use some air support and some of those new NPCs you gathered. I’ve ordered the castle to prepare for a siege, just in case.

Carl: Damnit. Okay. We’re on our way.

A moment passed. Donut sat there on the floor, staring up at me. Behind her, Mongo licked at the wall covered with D’Nadia gore. Mange the gnoll mercenary for the Dream stood against the back wall, looking uncomfortable. From outside came a muffled shout followed by a loud giggle. The rhino NPC was waking up.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Donut finally asked.

For a terrifying moment, I thought she was talking about what had happened with D’Nadia. But based on the way she was sitting, I knew what she was really on about. Relief flooded me. We did need to talk about what had just happened. About both things, but one of them was just between me and her.

I shrugged and held out my hands. I felt a grin spread across my face. “It was inevitable.”

I pulled up the notifications and re-read the one she was talking about. If this had happened several floors ago, I knew this would’ve genuinely upset her. But now, she only pretended to care. Part of me was sad about this, but right now, with so much going on, I was glad she was only pretending to be upset.

Due to your recent upgrades, your total base stat count has made you the strongest member of your party. As a result, you have been designated as the new Party Leader of the Royal Court of Princess Donut.

A new tab is available in your interface.

Donut continued to sit there, a look of incredulous outrage on her flat face.

“This is not acceptable,” she said with a harumph. She jumped onto my shoulder. “If you change the name of the party, I swear I will leave, Carl. Is that what you want? Mongo to come from a broken home?”

Mongo, still covered in blue blood, squawked in agreement.

I faked a laugh. “We’ll keep the names. And the titles. For now.”

Donut scoffed. “You better.”

I reached up and gave her a pat. She leaned hard into my hand.

Carl: Thank you, Donut. I don’t know what came over me.

Donut: You do know what came over you. I want you to throw that ring away, Carl. It’s not worth it. It’s doing something to you, and it’s scaring me.

Carl: Not yet. I need it for just a little longer. I need to get stronger. It’s important.

Donut: It’s not going to matter if it kills you first.

Carl: That’s why I need you, Donut. You did good just now. I’m going to need you to help me stay grounded.

Donut didn’t answer. Outside, the rhino’s shout became louder, more insistent, and I realized that Rend was probably gnawing on him. I sighed.

There was so much to do.

~~~

Take a breath. We have more action upon action coming up. Thanks everyone. I appreciate you all. Chapter 26 was especially difficult for me to write. It's like trying to frame a house with a really odd shape. I think it came out okay, but it's such an important chapter within the theme of this particular book ("Inevitable Ruin") AND the series as a whole, so I'll likely tinker with it more. I don't want to go too dark, but I do need to keep the lights dim for a little bit longer. We'll get to much more fun stuff soon.

I'll be seeing some of you in Colorado Springs in a few weeks. Looking forward to it.